


Facing the Truth

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mild Spoilers, Protective Dean Winchester, Schmoop, Upset Sam Winchester, Worried Sam Winchester, brother bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: 1-shot. The night after his talk with Rowena finds Sam having to finally face the truth and talk to Dean about things that he hadn’t. Sam’s confession then forces his brother to face some truths of his own. *Emotional/angsty!Sam & Protective/worried!Dean*





	Facing the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Might have some spoilers with mild language.
> 
> Spoilers: Maybe a few.
> 
> Tags: 13x12 Various and Sundry Villains
> 
> Beta’d By: AsteMcCann_JustaShadow

**Facing the Truth**

“I saw his face.”

Glancing up from untying his boots, Dean Winchester looked over to where his younger brother was leaning in the door to his bedroom but instead of looking at him Dean noticed that Sam’s eyes were locked to the floor as if not wanting to look him in the eyes…warning sign number one to the hunter.

“Come again?” Dean knew he’d had a couple beers, on top of the pain meds he’d swallowed for the leg that stupid blond witch had stabbed, so he figured maybe his focus wasn’t up to par. He honestly had no clue what Sam was talking about or why his brother, who had walked out of the kitchen earlier, had now suddenly decided to get chatty. “Are you drunker than I am, Sammy?” he asked, figuring that would be one explanation.

Shaking his head, still not looking up, Sam chewed his bottom lip as if debating going on or just backing out of the door, since he still wasn’t sure this plan was his best one of the night. “No. I haven’t eaten in three days really and threw up the beer I just drank,” he admitted, and by not looking up he missed the way his brother’s eyebrows went straight up in surprise at his reply. “Need to talk,” he went on after a couple seconds of silence. “I…I need to talk and you don’t have to answer or even listen but…I told Rowena that I could talk to you if I wanted to about this and…and I can’t bury it like I have been, De’n.”

Warning sign number two to Dean was the dropped vowel in his name, since he knew that only happened when Sam was upset, hurt, drunk or scared to the point where he’d risk being teased later on, but needed Dean to be there for him like he always was.

“Okay, so come in, sit down and talk to me,” Dean wasn’t sure he was sober enough for this. The moment Sam stepped into the room, shut the door behind him, and plopped down on the floor at the foot of the bed, near where Dean was sitting on the edge, the older brother’s warning instincts began to kick up more. “Huh. Okay then,” he ran his tongue over his teeth while debating how concerned he should be by this move since it had been years since Sam had sat on the floor like this. “What’s up, little brother?” he asked casually.

“I saw his face.” Sam repeated the same comment he’d made when he first came to the door.

“Yeah, I get that part. Whose face did you see, Sam?” Dean asked while making mental notes of the things he needed to remember tomorrow when he was more alert. Like to pin Sam down on the whole not eating deal, when it seemed like a huge hand punched him in the chest at the next words out of his brother’s mouth.

“Lucifer. I’ve seen his face, his true face, three times,” Sam said while drawing up his long legs so he could place his chin on his knees. His fingers finding the string on Dean’s one boot interesting as he began to twirl it nervously, and totally missed the way his brother’s jaw had clenched and his eyes went to hot slits.

Dean had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep the harsh curse he wanted to say inside, and use his little brother’s distraction with his shoestring to good advantage. When he next spoke his voice was level if a little rougher than he planned.

“You saw Lucifer’s true face, the one he hides behind his vessel, how many times?” Dean had been certain that nothing Sam would ever tell him about his time in the Cage, or anything to do with that arrogant Archangel, would surprise him…until right that second.

Rather than reply, Sam raised his hand to show three fingers. “The first was after I screwed up in Detroit. The second was in the Cage where I saw both his and Michael’s true forms and the third was…well…here,” he paused when the sound of gritting teeth could be heard above him. “Okay?” he asked but still didn’t look up.

“Uh-huh. I’m fine, Sammy. Go on,” Dean encouraged, suddenly realizing his pleasant buzz was wearing off, and he wasn’t anywhere close to being drunk enough for what he now feared might be coming. “He… Lucifer showed you his face while he was here that time during the whole mess with Amara?” he decided to verify that little detail and had to bite down on his lip again at Sam’s simple nod. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?” he asked since normally Sam didn’t give clipped answers or motions unless he was sick, drunk or, like Dean suspected, scared and trying to come to terms with something.

“Yep,” Sam replied. Which his brother took to mean that yes, he was sure he wasn’t drunk, when suddenly Sam’s focus was drawn to the small footlocker in the room. “Hey, can I look in there?” he asked in a way that reminded Dean of when his brother had been younger and needing a distraction as a way to get through something heavy.

“Yeah, you can look if you want,” Dean said, after a brief thought on what might be in there that Sam shouldn’t see. He watched with the intense, worried gaze of an older brother who had seen these signs in his little brother many times before. Sam quickly moved to grab the footlocker before retaking his same seat on the floor next to where Dean still sat. “Sam? When did Lucifer show you his face here?” he asked, figuring it had to have been during one of the few times when Dean hadn’t had his brother in his line of sight.

Sam had been looking through a pile of photos that had survived the fire in Lawrence when he paused to consider the question, chewing on his bottom lip like he did when uneasy. “One night,” he finally said, but suspected that answer was not going to satisfy his brother when he felt a light swat to the back of his head. “You’re going to get mad if I answer that,” Sam warned quietly when his hair was caught in a light hold so Dean could pull his head back and their eyes could meet.

“Little brother, there is no way in hell that I’m not going to get angry if this is going where I think it might be,” Dean remarked easily. He held Sam’s eyes and hoped that the glassiness he saw was just from exhaustion, being tossed around by those witches, and Dean punching him while under that damn love spell. “This is also where I remind you that if I happen to get angry, I am not angry at you but at every goddamn angel or demon who played us and at Castiel for letting that bastard out of the Cage this last time. Now, tell me when it happened here, because I watched you like a hawk from the second we had to bring the bastard here. So when did he get close enough to you to… _Sonuvabitch_!”

Placing the photos aside, Sam picked up a small wooden box that he only opened once he heard Dean give him permission to snoop to his heart’s content. “You had to sleep sometime, Dean. He knew that, so he waited and…cornered me one night coming out of the shower room,” he kept his head down since he didn’t want to risk seeing what he feared he would right then. “He only did it then as a way to remind me. The same way as having him close ignited those marks I still have from…oh crap.”

Dean was trying, really trying to keep his temper under control with the thought of Lucifer in Castiel’s body, ambushing his already scared and trying to hide it younger brother. He suddenly went still at the same time as he saw Sam’s body go rigid when it clicked what had just popped out of his mouth. Dean’s hand immediately went to the back of his brother’s neck in a well-known touch of warning.

“Sit still,” he ordered in a voice that had dropped just a bit more to the one that both Winchesters knew was Dean’s ‘fighting not to show he was pissed off and failing at it’ voice. Dean tightened his grip on Sam’s neck just enough to tell his suddenly very tense brother not to even try for the door like he knew would be Sam’s plan if he feared Dean’s temper. “Sammy, you’re safe with me. Now sit back, breathe,” Dean ordered while also trying to follow his own advice.

Dean waited until Sam had finally relaxed a little more, and was sitting back, but once again staring at the small box in his hands instead of risking looking up at his brother.

This had been one thing that Sam had sworn to never let Dean learn about. He was silently cursing his own mouth for running a bit too freely and getting them onto a topic that Sam knew would trigger his brother’s temper in a flash. Probably even worse than learning what else had happened in their bunker.

“Now, before we get back to the original reason you came in here I need you to answer me one simple, easy, little question with a yes or no answer,” Dean began in a tone that surprised even him at how level it was. Making sure to keep his one hand on the back of Sam’s neck, Dean stretched back as far as he could to grab something from under his pillow, since he figured one of them was going to need it soon. “Okay?”

“If I do, will you drop it even if you don’t like the answer?” Sam already knew the answer to that so he wasn’t surprised to hear a snort. “Fine, ask but just remember that everything I’ve kept from you I only did for you. So you wouldn’t go off halfcocked and get yourself killed or burnt up or smited.”

“Oh, we are so talking about that later, little brother,” Dean muttered but also understood that Sam was right. He would have reacted without thinking, but that was something that he did on instinct. The need to protect Sam was burned into his nervous system. “Sammy, do you still have marks on you from your time in the Cage with Lucifer and his jackass brother, Michael?” he asked. “Sam?”

Deciding the footlocker was no longer interesting right then, Sam dropped the wooden box back inside so he could wrap his arms around his legs again; hugging them much tighter like he used to as a kid. “Yes,” he whispered, but he knew Dean heard him when he heard a soft oath uttered from behind him, but the touch to his neck stayed light.

“I can’t see them so I’m guessing they’re shielded so here’s another question, are they all physical marks or are some of them spell marks?” Dean asked and this time knew the answer when he felt the way Sam jerked under his hand. “Huh,” he grunted and decided the very next time he saw Lucifer he was stabbing him in the goddamn face with that one angel blade Gabriel had left them. “Okay. Fine. I’m fine, you’re fine…I am not going to stab the next angel or demon I see on principals sake.”

Sam wasn’t aware that a small smile had formed as his brother worked through his anger by venting several creative uses for their angel blades on any form of either angel or demon. Leaning his head back so it rested on the bed, he saw that Dean was watching him, and he could see the temper on his brother’s face, but also the concern. “I’ll never be safe from him, Dean.”

The words were whisper soft, the fear, the helplessness that Sam felt but had never expressed plain in his voice as it shook. As well as on his face and in his eyes as he stared up at his older brother. That same open, innocent expression that had never failed to break Dean’s heart, ever since Sam was a kid and looking at him to have all of the answers.

From the moment he first learned that he and Sam had been born to be vessels to two asshole Archangels, there hadn’t been a time where Dean hadn’t worked to reassure his brother that no matter what anyone said that he could be safe from Lucifer. That he would keep him safe no matter what he had to do or who he had to kill.

Dean had still repeated those promises after they’d gotten Sam’s soul back and the nightmares had first hit. When Dean had learned some, a very small amount it now seemed, of what his little brother had endured at both Michael and Lucifer’s hands. He’d repeated them during the dark times of Sam hallucinating the bastard, and now he had to wonder if maybe Lucifer hadn’t been more real than Dean had originally thought. Now that he knew Sam still carried marks on him.

Holding Sam’s eyes while thinking on what he’d learned so far that night, Dean reached down to lightly brush away a tear that he doubted Sam even knew had fallen. “Yes, you will be,” he said, seeing Sam’s surprise as well as his doubts, and understanding both only too well. “Lucifer’s locked away in that other world, Sammy. He can’t…”

“Remember when I told you that I didn’t think Lucifer was as locked up as he had been? Before we learned that Castiel had given him access to his vessel? Do you remember that I told you there was a feeling, a creepy feeling in the back of my head that was screaming that he wasn’t trapped anymore?” Sam waited until he saw Dean nod. He saw the wariness on his brother’s rugged face while he continued to look up at him from where he had his head laying back on the bed.

“I’ve had that same feeling for last week or so, Dean. What if he found some way, found a door or something? What if what I’m feeling again means Lucifer isn’t trapped with Mom? What if… oh God” he broke off suddenly when a rush of dizziness, from looking upside down too long, had him lifting his head, and shutting his eyes until things stopped spinning. He didn’t think Dean would appreciate it if he threw up on his floor.

Dean hadn’t been expecting to hear that, much less have to think of that scenario. He did recall Sam telling him before that he’d felt off after that encounter with Lucifer in the Cage, while they were trying to find a way to beat Amara. To avoid the thought Dean had shrugged it off as just being close to the jackass before Dean had gotten there.

Considering how that had actually turned out, the hunter was now a little more concerned with any feelings Sam might have in regard to Lucifer. Especially when he considered how Sam’s nightmares were once again increasing.

Watching Sam closer now as he leaned forward with his head between his knees, Dean placed his hand lightly on the back of his brother’s neck. Another long ago made gesture that he knew Sam still looked for at certain times.

“Is that the other reason you gave Rowena the spell page to unbind her powers?” he asked quietly, no judgement or anger in his tone now as there had been in the kitchen earlier. “Sammy, talk to me, dude. Tell me what’s going on inside that head of yours.”

“He…She said before he killed her this last time that he showed her his face. She said she felt scared and helpless and…” Sam slowly opened his eyes to look back at Dean. Everything was wide open on his face, in his eyes as he stared up at the older brother that he knew would die to protect him if it ever came down to facing off with Lucifer again. Sam understood what Dean didn’t, and he wasn’t sure how to explain to his brother everything yet, but he decided to try his best. “Dean, do you know what seeing, what him letting someone like me or Rowena or anyone see his true face means?” he asked even though he knew his brother wouldn’t.

“Yeah. Yeah, little brother, actually I do know what it means,” Dean responded after a couple of long seconds of silence. “Demons aren’t that much different than angels, Sammy,” he stated after seeing the surprise in Sam’s eyes before it must have dawned on him what Dean meant. “It wasn’t long that I was on the rack that Alastair showed me his true face and yeah, if he had wanted to use that as a weapon against me any of the times he faced off with us, he could’ve and I wouldn’t have been able to do one damn thing.”

Sam gave himself a swift and silent kick for not even thinking about the time his brother spent in Hell. It was one of the many things that had been deemed off topic. While Dean was good at encouraging Sam to speak about his fears or demons, his older brother wasn’t as good at following suit, and in fact refused to even broach either his time in Hell or the time he spent in Purgatory.

Pushing up to his knees, Sam turned so this time he was facing where Dean still sat on the bottom of the bed. He noticed the clenched fist that was resting on the bed as if his brother didn’t want him to see it. “I’m…Dean, I’m so sorry. I never once considered that even though after that one time when I saw some of the wounds Hell gave you I should’ve but…” he hated that he hadn’t even given a thought to just how much in common he and Dean did have in regards to their time in the various stages or places in Hell.

“Hey, hiding my scars, my issues is what your awesome big brother does best, Sammy,” Dean knew his smile was forced this time, but he also knew he no longer had those same worries or fears since Alastair was killed at Sam’s hand years ago. He didn’t have to worry, but Sam still did since Lucifer, even possibly stuck in an alternate world, was still a very real and powerful threat to his little brother’s mind and body. “Do you think even at full power, assuming she doesn’t throw us to the wolves or that demon fried Colonel Sanders, that she can do any serious hurt to Lucifer?” he asked, while hating to bring even a small piece of that fear back as Sam looked at him with something akin to a weaker version of Sam’s infamous puppy dog eyes.

“Maybe not, but she might weaken him or injure him enough where something we do can hurt him or get him locked back in the Cage or even another world if we had a way to open a door,” Sam shrugged, dropping his eyes again as well as his voice as he went on. “I’m scared of him, Dean. He…I understand how Rowena feels because I feel the same way. No matter who we’ve faced, what we’ve overcome, just the thought of Lucifer being free and walking around and I feel as scared and helpless as I did trapped in my own mind while he was beating you to death and when I was trapped in the Cage with him and Michael.”

Pushing to his feet when he felt how close to breaking down he really was, Sam started to turn only to suddenly be tugged down to sit on the bottom of the bed. “Every night, every day there are still moments when I wake up and I hear him in my head, or feel him on me, in me and that’s even without any of the effects of the marks he left or made on my body that I can’t even show you or anyone because I don’t know how or…what would happen if I did or…” Sam’s voice broke suddenly, exhaustion and emotion all hitting him hard. While he knew he was setting himself up to be teased for the rest of his life or griped at for breaking the no chick flick rule Sam wasn’t sure he had the strength to stand up, much less get to his room where he could let the breakdown happen safely. “De’n…I’m so damn tired of being scared of him, but having to pretend like nothing he does or said before bothered me even when he…damn it!”

Dean had sat still during this. He knew Sam needed to get it out, needed to vent, to be able to express his fears without him butting in no matter how much the older brother in him wanted to. He wanted to shield and promise his little brother that it would all be okay so long as he was there. Dean also realized this might be the time where he wouldn’t be able to make those promises.

Ever since they were kids, Sam had always been the more emotional one. It had always been Sam who wore his heart on his sleeve. It had been Sam who expressed his fears or emotions more. Or he had until the last few years, until Dean had ‘died’ again, thanks to Metatron, and the whole mess with the Mark of Cain. Then the British Men of Letters had happened, and Sam just started shutting himself down.

Of course Dean also realized a lot of that was his fault. Since their mother’s return, Dean guessed he’d either been too wrapped up in ignoring her, since she hadn’t met with the version in his mind, or too wrapped up in other issues to realize his little brother might be falling apart right under his nose.

Keeping his eyes on Sam now, Dean saw him start to shake more. He heard his voice break on a sob as he began to talk about everything Lucifer had done to him either in the Cage or after. The things done and said here in the bunker, as well as other things that, in his emotional release, Sam had no control over and the words were just flowing in between broken sobs.

Allowing Sam this time to purge was brutal on Dean. There were only a few times where he would ever admit to feeling helpless, and he usually refused to talk about those times. It was when he was forced to sit still, to watch, to listen to his little brother like Sam was now that he truly felt helpless. He wasn’t certain if he had all the answers Sam needed this time and that terrified Dean.

For as long as he could remember, he’d always been able to protect and help Sam. Dean had always been the one with the answers when things looked hopeless for them, and he knew that Sam still expected him to have those answers, even when Dean didn’t right that moment. Of course that didn’t mean he wouldn’t eventually have them, and right then it hit him what he needed to say, to do for Sam.

“Hey!” he sharpened his voice to the tone he used when needing to get through to Sam. The tone that Dean figured was close to the one their father had used, and wasn’t disappointed when suddenly wide, wet, and glassy with exhaustion and shock eyes shot to his.

He gave Sam a few seconds to catch his breath, since he’d noticed that his brother was close to hyperventilating. He waited until he could see more of the blues and greens in Sam’s hazel eyes before he spoke again. “No matter who it is, what it is or when it might be…so long as I’m around nothing bad is gonna happen to you, little brother,” he said and then merely waited.

Blinking his eyes quickly to clear them of the tears that he hadn’t even been fully aware he’d been shedding. Sam stared into deep green eyes that were watching him closely as the words spoken in the same deep, husky tone Dean used when being serious, and also when he was fighting his own emotions finally sank in.

Replaying them in his head while catching his breath, Sam felt something being pressed into his palm. He glanced down to see what it was, and that remaining wall shattered, and he moved on instinct. He felt strong arms wrapping around him to hold him tight.

“I’ve got you, Sammy. I’m here and no matter what else happens, I will have your back and no one including Lucifer will ever hurt you again,” Dean knew that was a stretch but he meant it. He would protect his brother no matter what he had to do or who he had to kill to do it. He would never see Sam this shattered, or to feel so helpless that he’d been willing to face those memories fears alone for as long as he had.

Dean decided this his normal rule against chick flick moments was going to be suspended for the time being as he felt shaking arms wrap around him, warily at first, and then tighter when Sam realized he wasn’t going to mock or tease him. That the hug was accepted and returned tightly.

Sam wasn’t certain how long he’d clung to Dean, or really anything he might have said during that time. Understanding how his brother often felt about these moments, the younger man started to ease back only to feel the fingers that had been resting on the back of his neck close to give his neck a gentle squeeze. Dean had always done that when they’d been growing up and speaking his support hadn’t always been possible.

“You’re okay, Sammy. You’re okay,” Dean’s voice was lower, a little rougher like it got when his emotions were on the surface, but he was still fighting to not let them out completely. “I want to say that you will never have to see his ugly face again, but if you and Rowena are right, if Lucifer does come back he’ll have to go through me before he gets close to you again and I will put him back in that goddamn Cage if he tries to hurt you in any damn way,” he said firmly, in a tone that Sam recognized was his older brother’s ‘don’t touch my little brother or I will rip your lungs out’ tone.

Lifting his head slowly after using his sleeve to wipe his eyes, Sam looked up to offer a small, tired smile. There was so much he wanted to say right then. To try to express his appreciation for everything Dean did for him that night, as well as any other time, but wasn’t sure how to without taking this moment even further into chick flick territory than it had already.

“Thanks, Dean,” he decided to say instead, pulling back as a way to give Dean an out but, was surprised when his brother let go, but kept his hand on the back of Sam’s neck. “I…I’m gonna go so you can stretch that leg out and tomorrow I’ll come back and put that footlocker back so you don’t have to try to bend down and huh?” he blinked when this time he felt Dean’s grip on his neck tighten a bit more, like he would when warning Sam to stay still. “Dean?”

“You can finish snooping in the footlocker tomorrow if you want or whenever you wake up since you are so about to crash and burn, little brother,” Dean had been watching Sam’s eyes and could tell his brother was half asleep now. He also knew what would happen if he let him leave. “You can crash in here if you want,” he offered, quickly going on before Sam had a chance to think up any excuses. “Odds are good that, in the morning, this damn leg is going to be stiff and it’s a real big pain in the ass if I fall on my face with you a half a dozen doors too far away to hear me either yell for you or cuss all witches out.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, that makes sense, I think. Damn, I’m tired,” Sam muttered, rubbing a hand over his face and missing Dean’s smirk. “Yeah, I’ll crash on the floor so if you…huh?”

“Sammy, when you wake up if you don’t start making more sense or using more than ‘huh’ as an answer I might decide we need to take a trip to the ER to be sure that damn witch didn’t break anything in your head when she threw you across the room or I didn’t when I punched you,” Dean remarked with his usual teasing smirk, but he had decided to watch Sam during the night in case he did have a concussion. His real reason for deciding that Sam would bunk in his room, on the side of the bed farthest from the door if he could manage it. “You can have the other side of the bed.”

Sam started to argue that he could sleep on the floor, but just as he went to he couldn’t fight back a yawn and his body, after days of not sleeping well or at all, also decided to turn against him. Seeing Dean’s knowing smirk, Sam figured he’d been played. However, the thought of maybe having an undisturbed night’s sleep or knowing, if he did wake up that he wouldn’t be alone, he chose to ignore it. When a playful push to his shoulder pushed him down fully onto the memory foam mattress the younger Winchester was certain he’d be asleep before his brother.

“Oh. Hey, this is yours,” he remembered what had been pushed into his hand earlier and went to hold it out. He suddenly had to fight the rush of another round of emotion when Dean took the little bronze amulet into his hand to look at it before slipping the black cord around Sam’s neck so the amulet laid on Sam’s chest. “Dean?”

The little horned amulet had been given to Dean years earlier by Sam. The only time he’d ever not worn it had been after his deal had come due, and then Sam had returned it as soon as they reunited. It had almost been a symbol of their bond as brothers. Dean still understood he’d screwed up during the whole Apocalypse mess when he had allowed too much to come between them, and their bond, and he’d dropped the amulet into a motel trash can.

He’d regretted it instantly but had thought it lost forever. It had been during the whole mess with the Darkness in a small-town Sheriff’s office that Dean realized that Sam’s belief in him, in them as brothers hadn’t allowed him to leave the amulet behind, and had been holding onto it.

Dean hadn’t worn it, but he’d kept it either in his pocket or under his pillow when he slept. He’d grabbed it earlier and had put it in Sam’s hand as another way of showing his brother support, as well as the love he had for his little brother, that wasn’t as easy to express. Now, as he looked at it, and then at Sam’s eyes, he made a choice and slipped the black cord over Sam’s head.

“You can hang onto it for a while,” he said, lips curving up into a slow smile even as he saw Sam’s hand move  up to grasp it like he always would even when Dean wore it, and he was upset or scared. “You still believed in me, in us, when you picked this up and you kept it all this time even during things when I gave you all the reason in the world to stop believing in me. You keep this now so if I’m ever not with you for some reason and you get nervous or on edge you can hold onto it and remember that your big brother will always be there for you. Got it?” he asked while holding wide but tired looking eyes, and seeing the shaky nod. “Good, now go to sleep, bitch.”

Dean chose to use the long ago made playful insult that had also been a part of their bond because he knew it would make Sam grin as well as shoot him one of his eye rolls. However, it was hearing Sam’s laugh when he used the flat of his hand to give him a playful shove down onto a pillow that took away some of the worry that the older brother had had since Sam stepped into his room that night.

“Jerk,” Sam shot back with another yawn, eyes too heavy to stay open so he gave up and let his body start to relax since he knew he was safe to sleep where he was right then.

Waiting until Sam had settled down, flopping onto his stomach at first, but then by the time Dean stretched out on the side of his bed closest to the door he shot an eye roll of his own to the ceiling. He felt Sam move closer until his head landed on his older brother’s shoulder much like he’d done as a kid or like he’d still do in the Impala.

Dean ignored the pain his leg was in since he refused to move to go get more pain meds. Only once he was certain Sam was settled, and sleeping soundly, did he move enough to open a drawer of the nightstand closest to him. He dug around until he felt his fingers touch a small engraved box.

Opening it slowly, the hunter looked inside to eye the box’s contents with a narrowed gaze as this box and what it contained were not things he normally would ever allow close to his brother, but after learning a few things that he had that night Dean decided he’d risk it while Sam slept.

The hunter knew his brother still had questions about Dean’s time in hell or more importantly his time, those ten damn years as Alastair’s student in all things torture and maiming, but Sam had never directly asked him anything. Dean knew Sam hadn’t asked anything because he knew how that topic still bothered Dean. Except the older Winchester knew his reasons for not wanting to talk about that time wasn’t for the reasons Sam believed.

Brushing his fingers back through Sam’s hair, Dean let his fingers move down to the back of his brother’s neck like he normally would when letting Sam know he wasn’t alone even while he slept. This time though he let his fingertips move more to the side as if feeling for something while also removing something from the box.

Dean knew that there was a wound on Sam’s lower back from an angel attack, but that wound had always been visible since the bald prick had arrogantly wanted Dean to see it so he could try to force his hand into accepting his role as Michael’s vessel. He suspected there might be other Heavenly wounds on Sam from other times, but would deal with those as they came. Right then his focus was on trying to see how much of Sam’s emotional torment from the marks, scars or spell bindings he could ease or more importantly that no one, Lucifer or anyone else from Hell, could ever use them against his brother.

Staring at the small knife that appeared to be engraved in some type of language, Dean scowled, and since he knew Sam was asleep, allowed his eyes to harden as he thought back to that time and the things that he’d been taught that had nothing to do with torture or pain.

Dean had to briefly wonder how either Heaven or Hell, angel or demon, would react if they really knew everything that Dean knew. All the things that he’d been taught or that he could do if he used even a small amount of that knowledge.

The hunter knew that he could remove any marks that Sam had on him from his time in the Cage but to do so would require Sam to experience pain and that wasn’t what Dean wanted. He would, if it ever looked like it was needed, bring it up to his brother. That night all Dean wanted was to ease some of the more serious effects caused by at least two spell marks that he almost knew would be on Sam.

Using the tip of the blade to slice his finger, Dean watched the tip welled with blood before he lightly traced his finger along Sam’s neck while thinking the words of an ancient spell, that he supposed he should hate how easy those words still could come to him.

Quietly shushing Sam when his brother shifted in his sleep, Dean’s lips thinned, and he silently called Lucifer a few more names as he saw a thin line of ancient symbols form around his little brother’s throat. He had to be quick not to tense or snarl when he realized that all this time since returning from the Cage that Sam had still had on a goddamn demon spell created collar. Something that either Crowley or Castiel could have seen and also could have removed.

The collar made Sam vulnerable to anyone who knew it was on him or knew the spell to activate it. Now Dean understood how the hell Lucifer got close enough to Sam at the bunker to hurt him. Understanding that it would take more time and concentration to fully remove it, Dean did murmur the words to a spell that would block the collar from ever allowing Lucifer to use it against his brother if he ever did return.

The other mark that Dean figured the bastard would have put on his brother was on his shoulder, and he repeated the same process until he saw the mark dim from view. Leaning his head back against his headboard as a wave of nausea hit him from using too much of his own strength to ease any pain Sam might still be in from those two remnants of his time in the Cage, he placed the knife in the box and dropped it back into the nightstand. He swore it would remain there unless he felt he needed to tell Sam everything or he felt its use was needed to protect his brother.

Making sure his finger had stopped bleeding, and that he’d wiped Sam’s neck clean, Dean stayed awake for a while longer to be sure his brother was sleeping peacefully. It didn’t look like he’d wake up with a nightmare, and once he felt assured of that, did he let his own eyes close so he could go to sleep.

The hunter still had doubts about giving Rowena that spell page, but he knew that if Sam had felt it was needed than he’d trust his brother’s judgement. Dean also knew that by the time the threat reared its ugly head that he would have answers because, if Sam could face the truth about his own fears, then Dean guessed it was time to face a few of his own. Especially if it meant having to in order to keep those promises he’d just made to his brother.

**The End**


End file.
